


Back To the Train Tracks

by andlucyy



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, How Do I Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:15:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27819607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andlucyy/pseuds/andlucyy
Summary: Curly had a memory associated with every place on the east side of Tulsa -- it was just something that his mind did.Even though it was an unconscious association, he found that most of the memories in questions had something or other to do with Ponyboy.
Relationships: Ponyboy Curtis/Curly Shepard
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34
Collections: Take A Gander Down To Tulsa (Purly)





	Back To the Train Tracks

**Author's Note:**

> hello :) i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoy it too! maybe i'll start writing more often, who knows?

Curly’s eyes flickered away from the road to the boy sitting next to him. He was staring at the sun setting in the sky, almost glowing from the warm hue being cast on him, like a spotlight. The silver Star of David hanging around his neck was glinting in the light, and so were the redder bits of his hair and the gold hidden in the green of his eyes. It almost took Curly’s breath away at how perfect Pony looked. 

Cruising together with him was always one of Curly’s favourite things to do. He didn’t know how to describe the feeling, but it was like when he didn’t have Tim’s car and had to cycle across the bridge that was always too steep for him (it seemed like he only had to suffer through it when he was running late, which was almost always). At times, his whole life felt like the desperate pedalling and the aching feeling in his chest and the cursing himself out for killing his lungs with smokes and the constant upward climb that took damn near everything out of him; but when he was with Pony, driving slowly because they had nowhere to be, enjoying life because it was actually enjoyable, it was like he’d reached the point in the bridge where it flattened out, and he could finally breathe and forget about everything he needed to do and stare down the river, into the horizon that presented hope and opportunity of a new start, a clean slate, and man was it beautiful. 

Unchained Melody started playing softly on the radio as Curly looked back at the road. “They’ve been playing this song all year.” 

“I don’t mind,” Pony said, turning the volume up, “I like it.”

“I never said I didn’t like it.” 

Pony hummed in response and sank further into his seat. He reached and took Curly’s hand in his. He felt comforted as he met Ponyboy’s gaze. The usual cocky grin on his face was gone, replaced by a real, totally-gone-for-you smile. Pony began rubbing smooth circles around Curly’s thumb knuckle to the beat of the song. 

Neither boys were too verbally expressive. Growing up in a place where everyone assumed whatever came out of your mouth was trash made sure of it. When you really looked at a greaser, you could see all the emotion in their eyes, all the fight, all the pain, everything simmering just below the surface of their skin, where it would stay until they did something about it. They weren’t allowed to show it in a way society deemed ‘normal’ or ‘fit for them’, so they fought or stole or read or drew. Pony and Curly wished it was easier for them to articulate things sometimes, but with each other, they didn’t have to,. 

A vulnerable softening in Curly’s expression said he loved Pony in a thousand different ways, and the understanding nod accompanied by the reddening of cheeks in return said the same. 

“Where do you wanna go?” Curly eventually asked, getting restless in his seat. Despite the fact that he liked driving with Pony, he still was the hyperactive, ants in his pants (which his English teacher once called him and he liked) Curly Shepard. It was a miracle that he’d survived driving so slow and steady for that long. 

Pony rolled the window down and lit a cigarette. “I dunno,” he shrugged, “surprise me.”

“Is that a challenge?” 

Exhaling smoke with a light laugh, he replied with an indifferent ‘sure’, then offered Curly a drag of his cigarette, which was graciously accepted. He blew smoke in Pony’s face as he pressed down on the accelerator. He knew exactly where to go. In massive juxtaposition to Unchained Melody, (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction came on the radio. It was like the mood had turned on its head with the song change.

Curly had a memory associated with every place on the east side of Tulsa -- it was just something that his mind did. Whenever the place was mentioned, he would replay the memory in his head, eventually completely ignore the conversation at hand and get lost in thought (he’d got pretty good at hiding the fact that he had no fucking idea what was going on half the time, though). Even though it was an unconscious association, he found that most of the memories in questions had something or other to do with Ponyboy. 

There was the Dingo, which was where they were walking back from when he fell off that street lamp making a bet with Pony; and the school, which was 8 hours of trying to get Pony’s attention and drag him behind the library without getting caught or given detention; and there was the nightly double, where holding Pony’s hand in the dark would be so easy, yet was so hard to actually do; and the DX which he wished Pony wouldn’t spend so much time at, cause Sodapop worked there, and he wasn’t too fond of Curly hanging around Pony (Steve Randle was fine with him though, probably because he spent half the time laughing at the dumb shit he did). 

That evening, he was driving to the very place where a lot of what they had began. Curly felt rushes of adrenaline pumping through his body. He could barely sit still, let alone drive straight. Cigarette hanging out of his mouth, he violently turned off the road and sped down the dirt path leading to his destination. Pony, who was still holding his hand, squeezed it tighter. He was never a big fan of driving, which was understandable, considering his parents. Curly tried to slow down for the last few hundred yards they had to go, but despite the effort, when he pressed down on the brake pedal, both of their bodies jerked forward abruptly. 

“We’re here.” Curly shut off the engine and almost leapt out of his seat. 

“How the fuck did you get your license, Curls? Musta fuckin’... bribed the instructor or somethin’. You’re almost as bad a driver as Dally, and that’s what he did.” Ponyboy got out of the car.

“Don’t complain,” Curly shot back, “at least I have a license.” 

“Fair enough, I just have to run the risk of getting killed wherever I go.” 

“Where would the fun be without a little risk, huh?” Curly grinned.

Pony scoffed and rolled his eyes, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“By the way,” Curly said, taking the mostly finished cigarette from between his lips, “here’s your light.” 

“Gee thanks,” Ponyboy rolled his eyes again and threw the bud into the ground. Curly stepped forward onto it. They were barely inches apart. 

Curly was less than half a head taller than Pony, but almost towered over him, looking down at his face. His eyes darted between his green eyes and his lips. Everything was silent and unmoving at that moment, apart from their hearts beating loudly. God, Pony still could get his heart racing. Nothing ever made Curly feel things as consistently as him. 

“So,” Pony said softly, lessening the space between their lips, “am I going to be surprised?” 

Curly’s breath hitched in his throat. He almost blushed. 

Pony smiled smugly and pulled his face away. “Lead the way.” 

“Fuck,” Curly breathed, “you’re killing me, Curtis.” He felt stunned, but willed himself to lead Pony through the thin line of trees. As they passed through the opening, Curly saw it dawn upon Pony’s face why they were where they were. 

“Back to the train tracks, huh?” Pony asked, his face turning pink. 

“You wanted me to surprise you,” Curly shrugged, taking pride in Pony’s reaction. He sat down on the grass. Ponyboy joined him. 

“Wanna share a smoke?”

“Sure.” 

Curly began tearing out the blades of grass around him, but stopped when he noticed he was also getting the little flowers growing out of them. 

“They’re just weeds, y’know?” Pony said, passing him the cigarette. 

“I know,” Curly replied, taking a drag, “they’re just kinda pretty.” He looked at Pony. “Kind of like you.” 

Pony laughed and took the cigarette back. “You’re that desperate, huh?” 

“Shut up,” Curly retorted, sort of embarrassed that Pony could see through him that easily, “I’m not the one who asked you to try n fucking edge me, okay?” 

This only amused Ponyboy more. He took Curly’s face in his hands, thumb on his cheekbone, and finally placed the long-anticipated kiss on his lips. Curly leaned into it and a feeling so euphoric that it made his head hurt a little came over him. He savoured the sensation, wishing it would never end. He felt up and down Pony’s sides, eventually resting them in the dip of his waist, hands under his sweatshirt. They lowered their bodies so they were lying down on the soft grass and Pony’s free hand ran through Curly’s hair. 

When Curly pulled away, Pony took a drag from the cigarette that somehow survived the kiss. Curly laughed lightly and the totally-gone-for-you smile returned. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you too.”


End file.
